


I want you to have it all

by KHart



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Mostly Fluff, Sort Of, becky is trying her best, it's cute okay, they had a baby and they love it so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 18:05:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16877676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KHart/pseuds/KHart
Summary: She doesn’t know what’s wrong.She’s fed him. She’s burped him. She’s changed his diaper.She sat and held him, and, now, she’s just trying to put him down for a nap.She knows his schedule inside and out.He should be fine. He should be asleep.So, why won’t he stop crying and close his eyes?---Or: Becky and Charlotte are new parents, and Becky is really just trying her best.





	I want you to have it all

**Author's Note:**

> This was from a prompt on Tumblr, where someone simply wanted to see Charlynch with a baby. It's less fluffy than intended, but it's still soft okay. 
> 
> The title is from the song "Have It All" by Jason Mraz.
> 
> My Tumblr is Flairfatale.

Becky is almost positive that she’s about to pull her hair out.

“Look, buddy, please just tell me what’s wrong so I can help you. That’s all I’m asking.” She leans over to try to meet the only other eyes in the room, that are currently squinted and squeezing out fresh tears like dehydration isn’t a real thing to worry about. “Just like two words or a glance or a point or _something_? Anything to help your girl out?”

Another piercing wail is all she gets in response, and maybe putting her head through a wall would be more appropriate.

“Come on, Malcolm, bud, I’m just trying to help. I’m on your side!”

She reaches out and grabs ahold of a tiny, flailing foot and wiggles it a little, hoping to at least grab some of Malcolm’s attention away from his fit.

Her strategy, just like all her previous ones, proves unsuccessful, and, maybe, she should just go along with the ‘if you can’t beat them, join them’ mentality and start crying herself.

“Malcolm,” she repeats, exasperated and exhausted, extending her arms fully and taking the wriggling baby into her arms. “Malcolm, please just stop crying. _Please_.”

She doesn’t know what’s _wrong_.

She’s fed him. She’s burped him. She’s changed his diaper.

She sat and held him, and, now, she’s just trying to put him down for a nap.

She knows his schedule inside and out.

He should be fine. He should be _asleep_.

So, why won’t he stop crying and close his eyes?

Becky thinks she won’t even live to find out. She’s almost sure she’ll end up losing her mind beforehand.

She lets out a weighty sigh, as she bounces a little on the balls of her feet and pats Malcolm’s back softly. His tears dampen the same spot on her shirt that they’ve landed on every time she’s picked him back up after setting him down in his crib.

She’s gotten used to it.

But she could almost let out a laugh—a slightly a hysterical one possibly.

Because, truthfully, she had never wanted kids before.

It’s not like she disliked them or anything. In fact, she adored her little nieces and nephews and cousins. She was good with them, and they loved when she came to visit and told them stories about all of her wrestling adventures.

But those were kids that she didn’t have to raise, and they were old enough to have coherent thoughts. They were old enough to recognize her and call her name.

So, they didn’t scare her like this tiny human in her arms did.

Because the idea of being responsible for another person. The idea of having to take care of someone other than herself and her significant other, in a much more influential and dependent way, scared her.

And it wasn’t until she met her aforementioned significant other that she saw the appeal in having a child.

Because she didn’t dislike kids, but it wasn’t until she met Charlotte, fell in love with Charlotte, married Charlotte, that she saw why people _wanted_ kids, and why they wanted them to have the traits of the person they love.

So, when Charlotte had broached the subject of expanding their family from two to three, Becky didn’t have to think long and hard, like she would’ve expected years ago. The idea didn’t feel as scary if it was Charlotte she would be carrying it out with.

The idea of having a child with Charlotte’s eyes, Charlotte’s hair, Charlotte’s laugh. The idea of having a child that would tell jokes like Becky, be ready to fight like Becky, run around and have energy like Becky, it suddenly had so much appeal that Becky had thought she’d burst from the emotion of it all.

And, god, Charlotte was such a natural mom. The way that she carried their baby. The strength with which she delivered their baby and then smiled afterwards. Becky had never been so in love as she was in the moment when she was sitting on the hospital bed with a still sweat-dampened and disheveled Charlotte and _their_ child.

She had been so overcome with how fully devoted she was to Charlotte and to their tiny, pink baby boy.

“Malcolm Reid Flair-Lynch. Kind of a mouthful,” she had whispered, into Charlotte’s hairline, before pressing her thousandth kiss there. “But perfect. He’s perfect. Like his mom.”

Charlotte had smiled again, so tired but so true.

“He’s gonna have your fire,” she’d said.

“How do you know?”

“I can just tell,” Charlotte told her. “Call it a mother’s instinct.”

Becky had just grinned fondly and continued looking at Malcolm, at their son, but, now, she realizes that of course Charlotte was right.

(Charlotte is almost always right. Not that Becky would ever admit that out loud.)

And Malcolm does, indeed, have Becky’s energy. He does, indeed, have Becky’s fire, and Becky loves him so, so much, but she just wishes he would go to _sleep_.

“Malcolm,” she says again, for the hundredth time. “Please. Mommy is going to be back soon, and if she comes back to see you upset, she’ll never leave the house again.”

For a brief moment, Malcolm hiccups and pauses, almost like the mention and thought of his other mother is enough to get him to calm down, but then he starts back up again, a little louder than before even.

Becky almost sobs herself.

This is the first time Charlotte has left the house since giving birth three weeks ago, and Becky had said that she could watch Malcolm by herself. Because her wife deserved some time to herself.

But she thinks maybe she had been wrong. Maybe she can’t handle being a parent. Maybe she’s the wrong fit.

Because if she can’t get her son to go down for _one_ nap, then how is she supposed to raise him for the rest of his life?

And, okay, she can recognize that she might be thinking a little dramatically, but she’s so exhausted. She can’t remember the last time she’d gotten more than four hours of sleep at a time, and she could truly just collapse on the spot if she wasn’t holding such precious cargo.

“Come on, love, please settle down for me. Can you please just settle down for Mama?”

Malcolm whines again, and Becky carefully pulls him back and holds him out in front of her so she can meet his teary eyes—blue like Charlotte’s.

“I will literally give you anything that you want if you just stop crying.”

He quietens suddenly, with another short hiccup.

“Wait, seriously, you just wanted to have a card to play? Oh, you’re a sneaky little bugger, aren’t you?” Becky feels some of her tension seep from her shoulders. “You’re gonna take over the world, I bet.”

She huffs out a soft breath through her nose. And he still looks upset and disgruntled, but at least he’s silent. At least Becky can hear other things for just a few moments.

Which means she can hear movement coming from the living room.

She doesn’t know whether she should feel relieved or dreadful. Charlotte was supposed to stay out for longer.

“Baby?” comes the call, along with the approach of footsteps.

Becky turns just in time to see Charlotte come around the edge of the doorframe. She’s got her workout clothes on—she promised Becky she would only do some walking on the treadmill and some light lifting with dumbbells—and her hair is pulled up out of her face.

Her body isn’t back to its usual shape yet. She still has the curves from carrying the baby, and she definitely has the glow too.

Becky thinks she’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

“Hey,” she breathes out, bringing Malcolm closer to her chest again. “You weren’t supposed to be back until three.”

“I know,” Charlotte replies, moving forward. “But I missed y’all.”

Malcolm stirs again at the sound of Charlotte’s voice, and it’s like he can sense her presence, because he grunts a little as she stands just at Becky’s shoulder. Becky shifts so that he can see Charlotte’s face looking down at him, and after a second all of his upset and disgruntlement seems to disappear.

Becky is almost astounded.

“We missed you too,” she says, still a little breathless.

“Hey, little man,” Charlotte coos gently, flexing her forefinger in a miniature wave. She shuffles forward a little so that her and Becky are pressed more closely together. “Have you been giving your Mama a hard time?”

Malcolm cocks his head to the side slightly and Becky swears that he _smirks_ —honest to god smirks, in a perfect imitation of his other mother.

“He’s definitely got that fire you were talking about,” she mumbles. “I’ve been trying to put him down for a nap for what feels like hours.”

“Aw,” Charlotte exclaims. “Here, I’ll try, honey.”

Becky’s stubborn side wants to decline. She wants to say that she’s got it handled and that she’s a capable mom.

But she’s so tired—so, so tired—and Malcolm’s instant calm at Charlotte’s appearance isn’t a coincidence. Turns out he’s similar to Becky in the sense that he doesn’t seem to feel quite right without Charlotte around.

So, she turns some so that Charlotte can lift Malcolm from her hands, and she watches as Charlotte’s face takes on that tender fondness she so loves.

This time, as Malcolm is bounced soothingly, he doesn’t strain against the hold around him.

“Your Mama works very hard you know, Malcolm,” Charlotte says, in the same voice she reads Malcolm his bed time stories in. “You gotta go easier on her. She took care of us the whole time we were waiting on your arrival, and she loves you just as much as I do.”

Becky feels some of that earlier emotion come back to press against the inside of her throat. She hangs back as Charlotte walks slowly over to the crib.

She feels a spike of something in her chest as Charlotte easily lays Malcolm down on his back without any struggle.

She mumbles a quiet, “‘M gonna go change my shirt. I’ve got all types of baby fluids on me.”

She thinks Charlotte says something in return, but it’s too faint for Becky to hear because she doesn’t want to stir Malcolm up again.

The first thing she does when she gets into their bedroom is to keep moving into their bathroom, because she’s had to pee for actual years and she thinks she might explode if she has to go another second holding it in.

After washing her hands, she unbuttons her shirt—one of Charlotte’s old, over-sized flannels—and tosses it into the hamper by the bathroom door. Then she stands for a moment, in her bra and sweatpants, with her hands on her hips. She gazes around without really _looking_ at anything.

Her eyes kind of ache, and her limbs feel heavy, and she would really, really like to just tumble into bed and not wake up for a few days.

But that wouldn’t be fair to Charlotte, who also deserves sleep, arguably more than her, so she just makes her way over to the dresser to the right of the bed and looks for a new shirt that she won’t be torn up over should it be ruined by baby vomit.

She’s just grabbing a light blue one she usually wears to paint in when she feels Charlotte behind her.

Her eyelids slide closed as Charlotte’s touch brushes across the exposed skin of her shoulders, before traveling down the length of her arms so their fingers can intertwine. She then lets out a slow exhale through her nose, as she brings their hands to her stomach and effectively wraps herself in Charlotte’s embrace.

“How’s Malcolm?" she asks, in a hushed tone, as if any normal level of noise will jinx the calm.

Charlotte presses her nose into the side of Becky’s head, and her lips brush against the shell of Becky’s ear as she replies a simple, “Sleeping.”

Becky hums, leaning more of her weight back into the woman’s body.

“Good.”

Charlotte nods, but she doesn’t say anything else, so Becky doesn’t either. For a while, they just stand there together, basking in the tranquility of the moment and in the comfort of one another.

Becky could fall asleep standing up, as long as she was in Charlotte’s arms, honestly.

But there’s the slight sound of shifting from the baby monitor, and Becky’s eyes reopen and wait to see if it turns into a cry. She’s relieved when nothing else comes.

Her mind wanders to over to how swiftly Charlotte was able to get Malcolm to calm down, by simply being there and speaking to him, by holding him, much in the same way Becky had been holding him.

She bites down on her bottom lip.

“Charlie,” she murmurs after a while, careful, so careful.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Do you think I’m a good mom?”

The hold around her waist gets a little firmer, and Becky knows that Charlotte wants to turn her around to look in her eyes, but Becky also thinks she can’t do that right now, so she just strengthens her grip on Charlotte’s fingers and tugs her impossibly closer instead.

“Becky,” Charlotte breathes out then, confused, a little caught off guard, but still so gentle. “Of course I do. Of course you are.”

Becky tries not to let her insecurities and her doubts grab ahold of her a lot of the time, because she knows that, a lot of the time, they’re unfounded. They don’t have that much logic. But her tiredness has made her vulnerable, and she’s falling victim, if only slightly.

She sniffs lightly, and if it’s at all possible, Charlotte curls into her more closely, as if she can surround her entirely and absorb any of her hurt.

“I know I’m being a little irrational in my thoughts right now, and that’s mostly because we haven’t known sleep in a while, but I just—you wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else, right?” she asks. “Like, I’m not saying I think you don’t love me, or anything. I mean that, even though you love me, if you could have someone else co-parent with you, you wouldn’t want them, right? Because I know that I’m not the most natural-born maternal type, and you know I used to not even think about having kids, and I don’t know—just… You—You wouldn’t trade me out for someone more suited if you could, would you?”

“Becks,” Charlotte mumbles, still so close to her ear. “Becky…”

Becky’s eyes close again. Her jaw ticks a bit.

“Love, can you turn around so I can look at you, please?”

Becky’s shoulders are suddenly stiffer again. She hates the way that they smart as she moves to face Charlotte.

The looseness of the grip on her, so that she could turn, tightens again. Charlotte engulfs her completely in her arms.

“Becky, there is no other person I would rather be doing any of this with than you. Hell, if it was anyone else, I don’t think I’d even be doing any of this.”

Charlotte speaks each word slowly, thoroughly. She pauses and watches Becky’s face to see if she’s absorbing them.

“You’re the love of my life, and you’re the most wonderful, reliable person I know. You’re a wonderful, reliable parent already, even if you don’t think it was your natural calling.”

Becky’s chin trembles a little, and Charlotte brings her thumb up to soothe a touch over it.

“Becks, I’ve seen you with him. The way you’re quick to know when to feed him and change him. The way you hold him and look at him. You _are_ a great mom, even three weeks in. There’s no doubt in my mind, and there never has been. There never will be.” Charlotte’s gaze searches her features. “Okay?”

Becky nods then, misty-eyed.

“Yeah,” she whispers. “Yeah, okay.”

Charlotte still looks a little pained, that Becky even had these thoughts, so she leans in and presses kisses all across Becky’s face.

“I love you,” she says, into the corner of Becky’s mouth. “You and him, you’re my forever family.”

Becky’s next exhale is softer, less struggling to keep it together.

She had known that what Charlotte said was true before, but having it reaffirmed is what she needed.

“I love you too,” she replies, thick with feeling. “And him. God, I love that little guy so much. I just don’t want to mess up. I want to give him the whole universe.”

“That’s what matters,” Charlotte tells her. “It’s that simple. As long as you always want what’s best for him and try to give it to him, love. That’s all we can do.”

Becky nods again, steadier now. She leans in without any more words to stop her and presses her lips to Charlotte’s with the type of familiar firmness that comes from years of being together.

“Thank you,” she says, when they’ve pulled apart.

Charlotte trails a fingertip across the line of Becky’s jaw.

“I’ve got you always and any time of the day, baby.”

Becky smiles.

“I know. Never doubted it for a second.”

“Good.”

Becky’s grin widens, but before she can say anything else, she shivers a little. Her skin has been left exposed long enough for a bit of a chill to settle in.

Charlotte notices.

“Cold?”

“Yeah. I was just trying to find a shirt that could get baby puke on it without it feeling like a big loss.”

“Hmm, what about the one you wear whenever we repaint the walls because I can’t make up my mind.”

“That’s just the one I was thinking of,” Becky responds with an airy laugh.

She turns around again and reaches in for the shirt she’d had her hand on before Charlotte arrived.

Charlotte steps away just barely to let her pull it on over her head, and when their eyes meet again Charlotte chuckles a little, close-mouthed and cute, as she tilts her head. The look in her eyes can only be classified as adoring.

“What?” Becky asks.

“Your hair looks a little mad scientist chic.”

Instinctively, Becky’s hands come up to try to smooth the stray strands down into their place, but the bun on her head is almost out of its shape, and she knows it’s useless.

“Don’t worry, love,” Charlotte says then. “It’s cute.”

“‘M not cute,” Becky mutters, even as she accepts Charlotte’s embrace again and her next words, consequently, come out muffled against the woman’s shoulder. “‘M badass.”

“Oh, of course,” Charlotte nods, rubbing her hands up and down Becky’s back. “Always.”

“Are you being sarcastic right now? Mocking me?”

“I could never even dream of doing such a thing.”

Becky pulls back to narrow her eyes at Charlotte’s smirk, the one that Malcolm is definitely going to pick up.

“I hope our son doesn’t get his attitude from you.”

“Lies.”

Becky’s cheeks puff out in exasperation. Charlotte can be so smug sometimes. Not to mention, _correct_. Man, Becky hates that she’s so consistently correct, and she still won’t admit it. Of course not.

But, truly, as she stands and gazes at the woman she loves, she knows that she’d be forever grateful if their child turned out even a little bit like her. And she knows that there’s no way she’d ever trade any of this for the world. Even as an abrupt cry reaches them through the baby monitor.

“Like I said, he’s got your energy.”

“I think he took it straight from me, actually. I don’t know where it went.”

Charlotte laughs.

“Now you see how it feels trying to keep up with you all the time.”

“Oh, please, you love it, Flair.”

“Never said I didn’t, Lynch.”

“Excuse me, that’s Flair-Lynch to you.”

“Well, it’s Flair-Lynch to you too, but it’s a little bit of a mouthful, isn’t it?”

“Maybe,” Becky grins. “But it’s perfect.” Another sharp wail. “Just like him.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> My tumblr is Flairfatale.


End file.
